


Games and Players

by IntoTheRiverStyx



Series: The Stories We Tell [4]
Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: M/M, Mild Angst, Post-Battle of Camlann, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx
Summary: Kai and Galahad begin to tell stories relating to their experiences with the Fair Folk. Mordred has no idea how much impact his words have. Bedivere finds his heart exposed in the least literal sense.He may have preferred the literal.
Relationships: Bedivere/Kay (Arthurian), Galahad/Mordred (Arthurian)
Series: The Stories We Tell [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608088
Kudos: 13





	Games and Players

Mordred curled around his mug of hot liquid – something that still had little bits of leaves and berries floating in it – as he listened to the tavern bard sing about a bored princess who was swept off into a dreamland by the fair folk.

“It was nothing like that,” he heard Kai say under his breath.

“Leave them their fantasies,” Galahad hissed, “Gods and Saints alike know they need it.”

“Let's not pander to too many religions when the Fair Folk are already involved,” Mordred shook his head, “His voice is nice, if nothing else.”

“He can't hear us above the noise anyways,” Galahad shrugged, “Which reminds me, I've been meaning to ask: Is one of us going to be the primary storyteller?”

“I nominate Kai,” Bedivere was quick to say.

“Me?” Kai growled, “Why me?”

“You know how to get the entire kitchens to hear you without sacrificing tone or pitch,” Bedivere pointed out.

“And can hold a note,” Galahad added.

“We are NOT bringing that up!” Kai said loud enough that the table nearest theirs threw a few noncommittal glares their way.

“Bringing what up?” Mordred asked at the same time Bedivere said, “Yes we are.”

“You tell it,” Kai practically spat.

Bedivere and Galahad looked at each other, trying to decipher who Kai was talking to.

Bedivere started speaking.

–

Galahad was perhaps fourteen when Lancelot decided he was old enough to join some of us on a trip to one of the taverns in the lower towns.

–

“Not that it was my first trip,” Galahad interrupted.

“Lancelot would have had a fit if he'd known,” Bedivere chuckled. Kai rolled his eyes.

–

It was the three of us plus Bors, Lance, and Gawain, all planning on sleeping well past first bells the next day. I believe it was Bors and Gawain who started trying to drink each other under the table when they noticed Lance and Kai here were just as far into their cups and showing no outward signs of it.

Lance was always goaded into competitions and good-natured fights easier than Kai, but on this occasion, Kai joined first.

It was, perhaps, a small blessing that Galahad and I did not join the challenge, if nor no other reason than to make sure when we left for the night we headed the right direction, but that is for later.

I believe it was Bors who convinced several other patrons to join in as well, and drunk people being, well, drunk people soon the drinking contest became a singing contest. Whoever could recite the greatest number of travelers' songs correctly – as judged by the barkeep, won.

–

“Won what?” Mordred asked.

“Not their dignity back,” Kai huffed.

–

It started with some of the simpler songs, five, six lines that normally would be repeated until the traveler got bored, but it quickly escalated into the epics that normally only the professional bards would know.

Kai and Gawain were the last two standing, and they got down to that really long one – you know, the one about the ancient king who traded his life for the safety of his people in a deal with one of the underworld goddesses – anyways, Kai had picked it by going first.

–

“The one that makes warriors weep?” Mordred asked.

“Yeah, that one!” Galahad's face lit up as he jumped to continue the story for Bedivere.

–

Kai gets to the end and it was as if somewhere along the line he had forgotten where he was or why he was doing it, because his voice fell into a rumbling baritone that settled somewhere deep in your soul and the entire tavern had stopped to listen.

Gawain wept and couldn't even try to match Kai's performance.

–

“So what did you win?” Mordred asked Kai.

“Nothing,” Kai shrugged, “Winner's take hadn't been established before we started.”

“Why wouldn't you want people to know, anyway?” Galahad enquired, “I never quite understood that.”

“One,” Kai held up a finger, “it marks me as someone who trained at court.”

“And two?” Galahad tilted his head.

“It involves spending entirely too much time with all eyes on me,” Kai said as he held up a second finger.

“And three,” Bedivere looked just past Kai, “it seems we've attracted attention anyway.”

Kai craned his neck and spine to look at the bard, who was glowering at them but still performing.

“You were rather loud,” Mordred told Galahad.

“It was the most awe-inspiring thing I have heard, before or since,” Galahad defended himself, “Even the fair folk were not able to show me such music.”

“I'm not sure they know music in the same way we do,” Kai tried not to flinch.

“Oh?” Bedivere found himself genuinely curious.

–

When I first crossed the veil, it was as simple as stumbling through a particularly heavy mist. It wasn't until I reached my hand out to steady myself on a tree that I realized the bark was wrong. Smooth where it should have bee rough, tingled even after I pulled my hand away.

I could feel someone watching me, so I called out. A young boy's voice called back. I followed the voice and before I realized what was happening, the air changed. So did the plants, the colors.

No matter how long I wandered, I could not find the boy. The fog did not lift.

There was a river that I found – I do not know how long I wandered – bur my leg no longer hurt and I was so thirsty. As I drank from it, I noticed the flowers were the most brilliant, rich shades – colors I had never seen, could not put words to that would do them justice.

I drank and I slept and when I woke up there was no river nearby – only woods. The mist had lessened, but I did not recognize the trees, the scent of the ground, or the scattering of ground plants.

I hauled myself to my feet and wandered. I could not sense time passing – it seemed as if I were trapped in a perpetual twilight – and neither heard nor saw any signs of people.

It dawned on me, after how long I could not tell you, that perhaps the stories of the fair folk had their roots in truth, and if I ever made my way back home I would have my own stories to add to the collection.

–

“Your leg didn't hurt by the time you found the water?” Bedivere circled back.

“I did not think to check it or clean it,” Kai shook his head, self-disappointment etched onto his features.

“It was probably healed by then,” Galahad suggested.

“That has a lot of implications I have been trying not to think about,” Kai shut that line of thinking down.

Bedivere frowned at Kai, but did not speak.

“When did you realize you were with the fair folk?” Mordred asked.

–

At some point, sleep overtook me and when I woke next there were strangers standing in a circle around me. They stood far enough away that it might have looked like they had simply stumbled upon me if not for the standing in a circle thing.

My first instinct was to count their fingers – I could not see their teeth – and several of them had six on each hand.

“You know,” they spoke as one.

“I know I'm not finding my way out of here any time soon,” I snapped. A poor choice in retrospect, but is that not the curse of hindsight?

They all took a step closer, and it occurred to me that there may only be one of them and the energy they were spending keeping up the illusion was why some of the hands weren't right.

I took a risk and ran forward – right through one of the copies – but the fair folk only laughed.

I ran until my lungs burned and my legs wouldn't listen to me. He was in front of me before I could catch my breath.

“We have been watching you, Kai ap Ector,” he told me.

“One tends to watch a stranger in their lands,” I replied.

“No, Kai ap Ector,” he tilted his head but his mouth did not move, “much, much longer than that.”

–

“Well that's not creepy,” Mordred shivered.

“It gets worse,” Kai sighed, “But come, let refill out drinks first. ”

Galahad was quick to flag the barkeep, signaling for four more drinks. The drinks arrived but they barely noticed, eagerly waiting for Kai to tell the rest of his story.

“It's more confusing than exciting,” Kai warned them.

“It's still exciting,” Mordred shrugged.

–

He spoke of gods and goddesses and a land that never forgot the blood spilled on it or the flesh born unto it. He spoke of kings and queens and destinies that wove themselves together so tightly it did not matter who the players were born to – they would find themselves in the roles they were meant for regardless.

My brother – Arthur – was one of those people, he told me. So was I, and Galahad, and Bedivere, and Mordred, and Merlin, and Gawain, and Percival, and Bors. There were many who sat at the table round who would have been there no matter the station their birth afforded them.

–

“What?” Bedivere interrupted.

“It was just as confusing to me,” Kai sighed.

“No, it's,” Bedivere sputtered and then took a deep, grounding breath before trying again, “There's an implication what my father experienced was so I would find myself at Camelot.”

“It makes Merlin seem tame,” Kai closed his eyes.

–

He was joined by two others – they looked much less human – whose voices joined his while they told me more than I could have ever found questions to ask for such information.

After a while – and again, I could not tell you how long – their words stopped being in a language I understood, and then later again their voices stopped making sounds that humans could make. And yet, I understood everything.

I felt trapped, forced to listen and take in everything they offered as they spoke. Every now and again, news from the human world – from home – filtered in. It was always of Arthur, of something he had done or had been done in his name.

Dragons, they said, he had met and slain. Giants, too. Some beast more fantasy than their own beasts. Arthur was

–

“You mentioned those stories,” Bedivere interrupted.

“Could you have left, if you had tried?” Galahad asked.

“Dragons??” Mordred still did not believe there were such things.

“Yes, dragons,” Kai frowned at Mordred, “And I do not know. I did not think to try, honestly.”

“They get that way,” Galahad's voice sounded distant, “It's as if all your power of choice and thought and free will is locked away from your consciousness.”

“Galahad?” Mordred asked.

By way of answering, Galahad began his own story.

–

“I want to learn the magics of my father,” I had asked, specifically.

It felt as if my blood had been replaced with fire, every last bit of me consumed by searing pain. I was going to die, I thought.

When the pain subsided enough that it was not literally blinding, the first thing I registered was Bors. He was shaking, though not a frightened thing. I heard Percival scream, once, then Bors was running.

Percival took off after him on foot, but I ran to my horse and mounted. Percival did the same in short order. It was, honestly, something I did because I did not trust my legs to carry me.

We chased Bors until our horses could run no longer, the beasts collapsing to the ground. I landed at a roll before coming to my feet. Percival landed less gracefully, though thankfully nothing was broken.

“What did you wish for?” I did not want to address the issue of Bors. We had heard his wish before we made ours.

“To see my sisters,” Percival had managed a sitting position. He had heard my wish and made his last.

Once we were assured our horses would not die in the middle of the path, we set up emergency camp hidden from the casual observer not terribly far from the horses.

–

“Like the last-resort camps?” Mordred asked.

No knight liked the thought of the last resort camps. They were crude things meant to shield you from view. No comfort or protection from the elements was offered – just protection from an enemy.

“With fewer sticks,” Galahad nodded.

–

The horses took the rest of the day to recover and at that point we decided it was best to give them the night to rest as well. The next morning, we made our way back to the camp and found it as is time had not touched it. Even the breakfast fire was still going.

We had not spoken more than a handful of words since we took off after Bors. It felt like if we did not speak of it there was a chance it would not be real.

Finally, Percival spoke.

“I feel leaving the camp and making our way back to Camelot as we are is the best thing we can do,” he said.

I could see the fear but also the reason. I nodded and we let our horses set the pace the rest of the way home.

It took weeks instead of days – we had not made it that far, just taken a lot of detours – and the fact the trances started almost immediately did nothing to help.

–

“Can we continue this somewhere quieter?” Galahad broke off his own story.

“Of course,” Bedivere's voice was gentle.

“I will be up just behind you,” Kai told them. Bedivere and Mordred looked ready to argue, but Kai's jaw was set. There would be no argument.

–

Kai slipped into the kitchens unnoticed. It was not until his near-quiet request for any leftover bread or scraps that the young woman tending the last of the night's fires let out a short but loud scream.

Three other women came running, looking ready to strike. Kai held his hands up. “Just looking for food to take to my friend,” Kai said.

“I did not hear him come in,” the kitchen maid blushed. She looked to be barely out of childhood, a softness to her face that only youth could have afforded her.

“It will cost you,” the woman who appeared to be the oldest told Kai.

“Not a problem,” Kai promised her.

The kitchen maids shared a series of looks and expressions Kai recognized as well-practiced, silent conversations.

“Here,” the eldest finally said as she handed Kai a near-untouched loaf of bread, “Scare anyone again and it'll see you working the kitchens for a day.”

Kai laughed before he could stop himself.

“Ah, right, one of you warrior boys who thinks servant work is below you,” one of the maids who had not spoken to him yet snapped.

“I worked decades in a kitchen,” Kai tried to control his laughter, “One more day would not add much to that record.”

Kai had, at least, just enough social graces to leave before he angered them further.

–

Kai broke the bread into four pieces as he let the door to the room Galahad was staying in shut behind him. He handed the biggest piece to Galahad and then let Mordred and Bedivere pick their pieces before he sat down and started tearing small chunks out of the piece he was left with.

“Thank you,” Galahad said as he took a bite.

“Something about it just drains you,” Kai shrugged.

“You too?” Galahad's words were muffled. He swallowed before he said, “It's like, talk about it and all the sudden you could either sleep for days or eat enough to feed the entire table.”

“For me, it's feeling like I could sleep for a week,” Kai shrugged.

“You almost did,” Bedivere's tone was teasing. Kai sent him a warning glare anyways.

“You didn't look like you were ready to pass out, so I assumed it was food or drink,” Kai added, belatedly.

“Every now and again you do something so genuinely kind without comment, discussion, or thanks,” Galahad didn't thank Kai, not directly.

“It's not like anyone else would know the toll,” Kai shrugged.

“I know,” Bedivere was disappointed he hadn't thought of it.

“There's am implication you told Bedi -” Mordred was cut off with a nudge to the shin from Galahad.

“Where was I?” Galahad asked.

“The trances had just started,” Kai wasn't looking at Bedivere or Mordred.

–

The trances hit me first. I damn near fell off my horse – and would have if Percival had not been so quick to act. He pulled up beside me and braced me until I came back to myself.

When he asked what happened, all I could say was that the world had left my senses and this feeling of ascending to the heavens replaced it.

–

“Ascending to the heavens?” Bedivere blanched, “That sounds far more terrifying than comforting.”

“It was,” Galahad shivered at the memory, “Even moreso now that the trances have stopped.”

“How are you sure they've stopped?” Kai asked.

“It was this...feeling,” Galahad tried to find the best-fitting words, “like something in the back of my mind that was always reaching for Bors, wanting to draw the three of us back together.

“When it was gone after the battle, I...” Galahad closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, “I assumed Percival was gone, but hearing it...”

“Galahad,” Kai's voice was almost warm.

“I am glad you were able to help,” Galahad met Kai's eyes, “Even if I can never imagine the scars it left on your soul.”

“Some run deeper than others,” Kai deflected the thanks.

“What was it like,” Mordred tried to speak faster than Kai's general skittishness around thanks could come to the surface, “the heavens?”

“They were empty and cold and awful both in the sense of full of awe and fucking terrible,” Galahad said the sentence as if it was one word, “When faced with my death, knowing how inhuman the heavens are made me unafraid to do whatever it took to be the one who survived.”

A silence settled in the room, save for the shiver that ran through the other three.

Galahad looked between them, gauging their reactions. Kai seemed unbothered save for the fear hiding behind narrowed eyes. Bedivere's jaw had gone slack. Mordred was staring back at Galahad as if he was staring at a stranger.

“I,” Galahad cleared his throat, “I think I'm done these stories for the night.” He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. Kai looked at Mordred and Bedivere – Galahad missed the exact look, but both men were on their feet and leaving in short order.

–

“Hey, with me, Galahad,” was the last thing Mordred heard Kai say before Bedivere shut the door.

Mordred sighed and headed back down to the taverns. Bedivere followed him.

Mordred took a seat directly at the bar this time and only seemed a little surprised when Bedivere sat next to him. Neither of them had realized how much time they'd spent listening to Galahad. Night had fallen and torches and candles were the only offerings of light.

It had seemed so bright in the room.

“He's a good man,” Bedivere said without preamble.

“Selfless,” Mordred agreed, “I never knew him, though.”

“Hmn,” Bedivere let out a discontented noise. When he finally caught the barkeep's eyes, he held up two fingers. The barkeep nodded.

“How long have you known him?” Mordred asked.

“How old are you?” Bedivere asked, realizing he'd lost track of the years.

“Twenty-eight,” Mordred answered, “Why?”

“Thirty years, then,” Bedivere sighed, “Do not subtract ten.”

“I wasn't going to,” Mordred was quick to defend himself.

The barkeep put two mugs down in front of Bedivere. Bedivere slid one to Mordred.

“Has he always been...like this?” Mordred asked.

“Which this are you talking about?” Mordred asked.

“Kind but quick to push people away,” Mordred decided that was the safest first line of inquiry.

“No,” Bedivere answered, “He didn't need to push people away at one point.”

–

It was shortly after Arthur ascended the throne that Kai's exterior began to harden. I was King's champion, so in turn I spent a lot of time around Kai.

My first interaction with him, it was me who was unkind. I accused him, in much more courtly words, of being a treason risk.

–

“You _what_?” Mordred laughed.

“In my defense,” Bedivere was grinning, “there had just been a major coup and I had never seen him before. He looked like he had just come off a farm somewhere and was so familiar with our new King.”

“Kai? A farmboy?” Mordred laughed despite himself.

“I'd trained with knights for over a decade and had never seen him,” Bedivere explained, “and he lacked the grime and horrors of battle, so I knew he hadn't been in the coup whatsoever.”

“So treason was your first thought?” Mordred took a swig of ale.

“Arthur was so young” Bedivere emphasized, “When he'd stopped to rouse Kai the morning I first met Kai I wasn't sure what to make of things. When Kai did not hesitate before touching Arthur, I balked.”

“By the time I came to court Kai seemed the type of man who would rather cut off his own hand than touch someone,” Mordred shook his head, “Er, sorry.”

Bedivere laughed in earnest this time, a free sound.

“Neither of us were always this way,” Bedivere said once his laughter started to die down.

–

I lost my hand in the coup – well, on technicalities.

I was barely older than Kai – twenty-one years to his twenty when the coup happened. I was not in charge by any stretch of the imagination when I found myself the sole survivor of a particularly high-loss clash.

I remember the hoof of a horse crushing my hand and then blacking out from the pain not long after.

I woke some two days later with a missing hand and more wounds than I had received in my lifetime burning something fierce.

A group of serving maids who had survived the initial onslaught set up a hospital in the dungeons – arguably the most heavily fortified but least escapable place in the castle itself.

My initial reaction was anger – I should have died with my battle brothers. They shook their heads but kept caring for me – dressing my wounds and changing the bandages on my hand.

I was far from the only one who needed more intensive care, but I was the youngest. I was furious – with being alive, with needing so much care.

I was terrified I would never be useful as a warrior again.

–

“Really?” Mordred heard himself say.

“Have you seen a warrior with one hand besides me?” Bedivere held up his stump for emphasis.

“I received more, and better, training from you in two years than I did my entire life at my father's estate,” Mordred shook his head.

“I trained hard as soon as I had the all-clear from the physicians,” Bedivere sighed, “If I wasn't in meetings or asleep or eating, I was training. I was exhausted for the better part of a year because I was training by myself at night to make up for having to re-learn even the most basic things.”

“You,” Mordred paused and reconsidered his words, “That's impressive. How did you come to be my father's personal guard, anyway?”

Bedivere sighed and took a long drink before he continued.

–

Merlin collected me maybe a day later, much to the dismay of the maids. They were worried I was not ready, but Merlin was insistent.

When I asked why me – well out of earshot of everyone else – Merlin told me it was because Arthur would need someone who was young, stubborn, and had a good record of surviving the impossible. I tried to tell him it wasn't me he was looking for, but he shut that down fast.

When I met Arthur for the first time, he looked more boy than man, nonetheless King. Still, I greeted him as a King.

He was terrified, awkward, and kept asking Merlin where his brother was. Merlin refused to answer, instead focused on teaching Arthur everything he could about what it meant to be King.

The second day, I fainted during Arthur's lessons – pain and my wound and exhaustion overtaking me before I realized what happened.

I thought for sure, upon waking, that I was going to be replaced. I tried to get back on my feet, but a strong hand kept me down.

It was Merlin himself, with a rather worried Arthur hovering behind him. Merlin lectured me on the importance is saying when something was wrong before it became a crisis. He had my bandages changed, but did not relieve me of my duty or otherwise threaten to replace me.

–

“Which was about the opposite of when he found out about my leg wound,” Kai interrupted.

“Maybe he wanted to make sure you were still capable,” Bedivere suggested, “If Arthur was to have two wounded people serving as his guard and confidant.”

“Perhaps,” Kai shrugged, “but that would have done nothing for my pride or how badly it aggravated the wound. Anyway, Galahad's calmed down and is asking for more bread, so I am going to go try not to scare the kitchen maids again.”

Kai was gone before Bedivere or Mordred could say anything.

“We should probably be getting back upstairs,” Bedivere suggested.

Kai ran past them, loaf of bread in hand, angry shouts following him. Bedivere chuckled, a fond thing.

“Or we could wait for that to clear,” Mordred suggested, “though he has no right to be that fast.”

“He's always been something else,” Bedivere shook his head.

“When did he start to close himself off?” Mordred asked, realizing the reason for Bedivere's storytelling had derailed a bit.

Mordred tried to tell himself the darkening of Bedivere's eyes was a trick of the torchlight.

–

The first year of Arthur's reign was particularly fraught with chaos and bloodshed. The chance to take Camelot down or claim Camelot for themselves was too tempting to ignore the risks of battle.

It did not escalate into its own war – not quite – but violence was not the only thing power-hungry lords and kings used to try to topple Arthur.

When it became apparent Arthur was well-guarded and could talk his way out of any diplomatic pitfall, attention turned to Kai.

Kai, whose entire life had been dedicated to protecting Arthur, was worn down by being seen as little more than a means to an end. He started treating every newcomer as a threat, unwilling to spend the time and energy of welcoming them only to have them use him to try to get to Arthur.

To be fair, we did not speak more than a handful of words during that time, so he likely thought I hated him, or at the very least my initial thoughts of him being a risk to the boy King never quite dissipated.

It took me far too long to realize the damage only having Arthur to talk to as something besides a comrade was doing to Kai. Too late to try to befriend him, I thought.

–

“You love him,” Mordred didn't ask but managed not to accuse.

“You seem sure of that,” Bedivere's reply was a terse thing.

“It's,” Mordred faltered, “it's the way you speak about him. Like you've loved him for a long time and time has done nothing to change that.”

Bedivere nearly slammed his cup back down on the bar. Conversations around them died down and Bedivere could feel the stares, waiting to see if they would be treated to watching the two men come to blows.

“Upstairs,” Bedivere snapped at Mordred.

Mordred didn't need to be told twice.

Kai met them at the top of the steps, a horribly confused expression meeting Bedivere's stormy one and Mordred's worried one.

“What happened?” Kai asked, even if it wasn't exactly a request, “Also, Mordred, Galahad's asking specifically for you.”

“Right,” Mordred nodded. He looked between the two older knights before deciding that whatever Galahad wanted from him needed more immediate attention.

–

Mordred sat across from Galahad, a careful thing. It was dark in the room save for a single candle he suspected Kai had lit.

“Hey,” Mordred's voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” Galahad was still sitting with his knees to his chest, but he had the bread Kai had snagged in one hand, “You came.”

“Of course,” Mordred scooched closer.

“It sneaks up on me,” Galahad explained, “the weight and the reality and the...everything. About everything. About the fair folk and their magics and the loss and -” Galahad's words broke off and he bit his lower lip hard. “Sorry.”

“It's alright,” Mordred tried not to dismiss Galahad's apology. He reached a tentative hand to Galahad's and, when Galahad didn't flinch or pull away he let his palm rest over the top of Galahad's hand.

The candle gave enough light to let Mordred see Galahad's cautious, scared smile as it spread across his face.

–

Bedivere was not stomping to his room. At least, that was what he told himself.

He tried to shut the door behind him, but the force was stopped.

“Bedivere,” Kai's voice was a few steps past worried.

“Don't,” Bedivere's command carried a warning. When Kai didn't move, he added, “I have never asked anything of you, not for myself, but I'm asking you now, Kai. Don't. Please.”

“You're going to have to be a little more specific,” Kai said, but he took his hand off the door and stepped back to give Bedivere enough room to shut it if that was what Bedivere so desired.

Bedivere let his hand off the door as well. He met Kai's worried look with his dark one.

Kai stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Without the torches in the hall, they found themselves in pitch darkness.

It was easier, Bedivere decided, if he couldn't see Kai's worry.

That decision was absolved the instant Kai asked, “What happened?”

“Ever have a single question just tear open a wound you didn't realize was even there?” Bedivere tried to keep his words even.

“Well, yes.”

Even without seeing his face, Bedivere could hear Kai's worry turn into something deeper, knew exactly what face Kai was making.

“I,” Bedivere tried to say something, but the rest of the words stuck in his throat.

What happened next was a blur – a sob Bedivere wouldn't realize until much later was his own, an embrace much rougher than the one at the lake after the battle, then lips on his neck, then cheek, then his lips on Kai's.

“So help me,” Bedivere whispered as he crowded Kai against the door, “if you don't mean -”

“Could say the same for you,” Kai's voice was rough.

Bedivere's breathing was ragged, broken near-gasps as he laid his head on Kai's chest.

Kai held Bedivere against him like a lifeline.

–

“They're not here,” Galahad was on his toes despite not needing to be, eyes searching the tavern for signs of Kai and Bedivere.

“No candlelight from either of their rooms, not here,” Mordred frowned.

“My money's on they're in one of their rooms,” Galahad said with a shrug, “You knocking?”

“Nope,” Mordred threw his hands in the air, “for entirely different reasons than you're not asking them what type of relationship they have.”

Galahad's laugh rang out over the din of the tavern

“I feel like neither you or Kai really told even a sliver of your stories tonight,” Mordred realized.

“There will be time. Now come on,” Galahad touched Mordred's elbow lightly, “before either the bard or the barkeep throws us out.”

Mordred followed Galahad upstairs, the feeling that everything they'd experienced so far was about to change following him closely.


End file.
